


Drift in the Night

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Developing Friendships, Gen, Gyms, M/M, Other, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 14:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the Apocawasn't, Uriel reconsiders things. Like a friendship with a demon.





	Drift in the Night

Hastur grumbled to himself as he slipped inside the 24-hour gym to have a look around. Being sent to check out angelic activity in the area should be beneath him. Should have sent one of the underlings in his place! But Lord Beelzebub had given him the assignment specifically, and there was no getting out of it. Bollocks.

Never mind that Ligur was on a completely different assignment. Hastur hated being without backup.

The gym appeared mostly deserted, if he was honest. There was a human at the front desk peering at their mobile, and Hastur passed by undetected.

Maybe the angel had already left. Hastur crossed his fingers and hoped for the best. There was a boxing ring in the main part of the gym, not currently in use. But nearby he heard thumping sounds, and grunts, and he slowly made his way over to investigate.

Hastur froze as he saw the Archangel in front of him who was pummeling a punching bag that was hung from the ceiling. Curse his terrible luck. He didn’t recognize the angel personally, but he knew an Archangel when he saw one. He was about to turn around and make a run for it, when the angel spoke.

“What are you doing over there?” the angel asked, and she took a break from her exercise to turn to him and look him in the eyes.

“Me? What are you doing?” he turned the question back to her, hoping to buy some time. 

She approached him, then, and he began to back up, until his back hit the ropes of the boxing ring.

“Look,” said the angel. “Between you and me, I’m not looking for a fight. I came down here to work out some tension. The name’s Uriel.”

Uriel held out a tape-wrapped hand.

“Hastur,” he answered, reaching out with trepidation. The handshake was brief. “Not looking for a fight either.”

“Right.” She smiled at him, and turned her back, going back to what she was doing before.

“What, what’s an Archangel doing in a human gym in the middle of the night?” Hastur asked. He’d have to put something in his report. He couldn’t go back to Hell with nothing.

“Like I said.” She hit the bag again. “Working out some tension.”

“And that helps?”

“Gabriel _jogs_. Sandalphon took up bird watching. We’ve all got to have something.”

“I thought you were above that sort of thing?” Hastur prodded. It sounded suspicious. Although, Ligur had mentioned that he and Michael played chess from time to time.

Uriel laughed. “Yeah, so did I.”

He wondered if Beelzebub would believe any of this if he wrote it in his report, or if he’d be punished with weeks of terrible assignments for substandard work. The Lord of Flies had been in an awful mood lately, and they’d all suffered in the meantime.

“Can you show me?” Hastur asked bravely, wondering if he was mad for chatting with an Archangel, instead of fleeing immediately. Just because there wasn’t currently a lot of thwarting, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be.

Uriel looked him over, then jerked her head in a nod, beckoning him to come closer.

“You’ll have to take off those gloves,” she said, gesturing to the fingerless leather gloves he always wore. Hastur almost never took them off, especially not in public, especially not in front of an Archangel. Ligur was the only one to see his bare hands, and even then it was usually in the dark.

“Why?”

“So I can wrap them. It’ll protect them. Those gloves you’re wearing won’t do anything for you.”

Hastur disagreed. His hands were scarred, and even though Uriel might not know what that meant, he would.

“Maybe I’ll watch you instead,” he offered.

“You might like it,” Uriel said. “Oh, come on then. What’s your thing?”

“What?” Hastur was starting to feel on edge. He didn’t like individual assignments, and he definitely didn’t like feeling out of his depth.

“Your Earth thing. Gotta be something, yeah?”

“No,” Hastur sneered, crossing his arms. “I don’t have a--an _Earth_ thing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, too, for a long time,” Uriel said, seeming pensive. “Didn’t seem right.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, maybe not now. Maybe you’ll find something you like,” Uriel shrugged, like she wasn’t invested or anything, but not a completely uncaring shrug, either. “If you’re in the neighborhood again, this is my regular gym.”

“Why’re you tellin’ me that?”

“I don’t know. It’s new.”

“Oh.” Hastur felt--well, not a kinship, exactly, but he felt that he and this Archangel might be speaking the same language. “Well, I might have to come back ‘n’ check on you anyway.”

“I’ll be here.”

Hastur nodded, and watched as she stretched her arms and assumed a stance in front of the punching bag.

He turned to walk away. Maybe he’d take her up on the offer and come back sometime. After all, if he was ordered to, he’d have to. He’d tell Ligur all about it, of course--the conversation, Uriel inviting him back, everything. Should he have a thing, like she said? An Earth thing? No, that had to be utter rubbish, didn’t it?

Well, he’d think on it.


End file.
